But he couldn't tolerate this crap acting

But he couldn't tolerate this crap acting anymore. He was a God. They were, well twits. He walked over to the craft services table and decided to eat his feelings. He hated

scrapbooking. He especially couldn't stand all the different scissors for cutting just the right borders for everything. Still, a God had to know when it was time to work with the

cut. The fabric separated beneath his jury-rigged scissors in a most satisfying way, and he smiled the smile of a man who liked to smile. A lot.

He carefully took the pieces he'd cut and laid them out. Then he slowly started to stitch them together in neat little stitches. He was a good sewer, he'd always loved to sew and

the opportunity to re-attach several hundred skin flaps to Murray, his pet poodle, seemed like a godsend. He grasped the needle & thread, stitching like a madman - which he was -

until he ended up with Theseus' poodle. Well, it was Murray's own poodle. But no part of his original poodle now remained. It began to act irrational, irate, irrascible and

irradiant, but mostly the 1st and 3rd things. King Minos rebuilt the slain Minotaur bit by bit until he wrought the sword-proof MechaMinotaur. The Poodle of Theseus growled, rolled

over and lifted its hind leg on the MechaMinotaur. Big mistake. The Poodle of Theseus' throat was crushed by MechaMinotaur in mid-yelp. King Minos was mightily pleased with MenchaM

inotaur. Meanwhile, in Crete, NE, under a new volcano, a new Minotaur waited for a new Theseus to pickup the thread of fate in the new labyrinth and start their story again.